Lightning
by Benevolence Black
Summary: A seven year old Harry is pulled through time. When he becomes the only companion of Tom Riddle, what will happen through their years by each other's side? And what will become of the pair when they go to Hogwarts? TRHP Slash, yaoi, shounen ai.
1. Chapter 1

The suburbs weren't a horrible place to live. Not at all. No one really had problems, and were, for the most part, full of happy families or content loners.

They were, however, completely and utterly all conniving, nosey, snobbish frauds who were obsessed with their own idea of "normalcy." Well, Harry couldn't speak for all of them of course. But he could definitely testify for the Dursleys, (more against them than anything,) and he had the scars and bruises to prove it.

That brings us to our subject, (well, one of our subjects,) a Mr. Harry James Potter. Harry was a skinny boy, who was shorter than most of his peers. He was only seven years old, so it didn't really matter once the growth spurts hit, but he was still constantly seen as weak because of it. But he wasn't weak. Not really. Sure, physically, he wouldn't be able to squish a fly, but he could do other things. He could do things without touching them, impossible things.

Because of this, the Dursleys called him a freak, and often beat him because of it. Harry didn't know why they hated him so much, he was sure that they were family, but the other children at school didn't get beaten by their uncles or fathers. They weren't forced to cook, work in the garden, and wash the dishes by their aunts or mothers. And their cousins definitely didn't enjoy partaking in any game similar to "Harry Hunting." Unless they were a part of Dudley's gang of course.

The mention of the game Harry's cousin was so particularly fond of should call to your attention the location and situation Subject Number 1 is in. Currently, Harry was hiding from his cousin and his gang in a small storage space inside their school. It was just after hours, and Harry was crouched down, trying to discern the sounds of the passers by from Dudley and his meat-headed friends.

It wasn't hard, no one stomped around like Dudley did, trying to lug around all his access fat while still keeping his balance. Harry's heart thudded hard in his chest when he heard Dudley's footsteps stop in front of the closed door that separated the cousins. The barricade wasn't thick enough in Harry's opinion.

"Hey, Dudley, why don't we forget about the freak and leave. My mum wants me to be home early tonight. Besides, he's probably already run to your house by now." A voice that Harry recognized as one of Dudley's followers spoke up, out of breath.

"Fine, but I just know he didn't go back home. He knows he'll get worse if he runs there, one way or another. No, he's definitely still in school," Dudley's voice came muffled through the door. Astonishingly, his tone sounded like he was thinking incredibly hard on something. "But fine, if you want to go home to your mommy, go ahead. I'll just start opening every door in this place."

"Oh, come on Dudley! That would be a waste of time! He probably tried to go up on the roof again. Though he'd be stupid to. He'd just get in trouble with the teachers again," the same voice from before sounded, and now it held even more exasperation.

"Not to mention that he'd get struck by lightning," a third voice guffawed, probably taking pride in his apparent spike in wit. As the voice spoke, a bright flash went through the cracks in the doorway, followed by a loud boom of thunder. Harry flinched and started shaking. He was terrified of thunder, he had been extremely reluctant to go to school when he learned that there was going to be a storm just after school let out. Just after the loud crack, Dudley's voice broke through the chorus of grunting laughter.

"Well, I want to open at least one door, other wise this game would be pointless." Harry remarked to himself that the game was pointless no matter how many doors Dudley opened. What sort of point could one have in beating up one's cousin. Harry chalked it up to Dudley's lacking vocabulary. Harry thought that the phrase, "wouldn't sate my sadistic tendencies" suited the context much better. "Let's open this one." The steps walked closer to the door Harry was crouched in front of. Apparently the game would sate Dudley's sadistic needs once again, Harry noted in horror.

As the door opened, Dudley peered inside, trying to find the shadow of Harry from the other shapes in the broom closet. As he looked down, a white light flashed behind him, turning him into a silhouette in Harry's eyes for a split second before the light overwhelmed all that Harry could see. All Dudley saw however, was the dirty, tiled floor of a broom closet, strewn with different objects.

"See, Dudley, he's not there. Can we go home now? Though I think we'll probably get wet from the rain." A chubby boy called from behind Dudley. The fat ringleader turned around, slamming the door shut as he spoke.

"Yeah. I'll call my mum to see if she'll pick us up. Doesn't look like he's here, anyway."  
Harry wasn't there. He wasn't at his house or on the roof either. In fact, Harry had been sent nearly 60 years backward into the past.

* * *

**AN: This first chapter turned out to be similar to another story I wrote called Alien.  
**

**Well, welcome old readers. I know that I've only posted a prologue for Fieldtrip! and I still haven't gotten around to Alien's sequel. But I really wanted to try this idea. It looks like I'm going to be trying to keep up with multiple stories.  
And a big warm welcome to any new readers. I wrote this story because I was reading a lot of Tom Riddle/ Harry Potter Fanfics lately, and I noticed that many people either have Harry adopt Tom, have them older with Harry trying to kill Tom, or skip over the whole process of Harry bonding with him. I personally find myself more interested in when they are younger and bond. The only one that I can say with absolute certainty (that I have read of course) that does as such is one called Castle of Glass by minidraken. Seriously, I could and am reading that over and over again.  
**

**So, this is just what I want to write. I couldn't care less if someone thought that I am being unoriginal. I will however take any constructive criticism that I can get. If someone finds what I am writing offensive (besides it being a homosexual relationship, or the whole, "but they're enemies!" thing,) I will discuss it with them and act accordingly.  
**

**Yeah, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a fujiyoshi. This will be a shounen ai, (yaoi if I get bold) so if you DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ!  
I solemnly swear that I do not own J. K. Rowling's series, Harry Potter, nor shall I ever be so disrespectful to claim that I do. This is purely for my own amusement, and I hope it entertains any audience I may get!  
Press the button please, or I'll set the bludgers on you. *Psychotic smile, the kind Tom has.***


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes Harry really hated his mysterious ability to transport himself to odd places. Sure, it was awfully convenient when running from Dudley. Dead-end? No worries, just think about not wanting to be there, and you're on the roof! Simple! Yeah, not simple. Not simple at all. The trouble with transporting yourself on the roof is that little seven year old boys should not be on the roof. Harry avoided getting beat up, but he had just gotten in trouble with the teachers instead.

But Harry had never suddenly found himself so far away from his house before. It looked more like the older parts of London than the suburbs. The streets were cobblestoned, and the tall, three story buildings were made of bricks, and were smushed together, leaving no space. It had suddenly turned very dark, and Harry looked up, but didn't see any stars.

After Harry stopped berating himself, he turned his head to the side, trying to find someone. But of course, no one was around. It was still raining heavily, and Harry jumped when another bright flash cracked across the sky. He was quickly getting soaked, was already frightened, and clearly lost. He rubbed his arms, and decided to try knocking on a few doors.

Hopefully, he'd at least be able to figure out where he was, maybe whoever answered the door would be nice enough togive him directions to a shelter. He hoped.

Not wasting any time, Harry walked up a small set of steps to the door of the building closest to him. He couldn't find a doorbell, so he settled for the old knocker fastened to the door, hoping he wasn't being presumptuous. He waited, shivered, and began wondering if he should move onto the next door.

But soon enough, a scrawny old man opened the door, dressed in odd nightclothes. It was a pale blue gown, complete with a nightcap. Harry chalked the dress choice up to the man's age. The man squinted, fumbled with some spectacles, then glanced down in surprise.

"What do you want, boy?" He hissed, "Do you know that it's in the middle of the night?"

Harry's head jerked up in surprise. He was sure it couldn't have been later than 3:00 PM.

The sky was pitch black, but the seven year old's mind immediately blamed the storm. He

flinched at another crack of lightning, and struggled to keep his composure.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. But… but you see…"

"Spit it out!" The man grumpily snapped.

"Ah, I'm- I'm lost, sir. I was wondering… wondering if you could give me directions." The old man blinked, and squinted through his glasses at Harry.

"Hmm… where do you live, boy?" Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to keep his now soaked body warm.

"Um… Number 4, Privet drive, sir. It's… I don't think it's anywhere near here, sir." The old man's eyebrows frowned, and he shook his head a little.

"No, never heard of it." He seemed to contemplate something, looking at Harry from the corners of his eyes. But, a woman's voice called out behind him, and the scrawny man turned around to reveal a plump woman, about his age, in similar nightclothes, only light pink.

"Harold, what is it? Who's there?" She glared down at Harry, a frown on her lips.

"He says he's lost. Don't recognize the address though." The woman rolled her eyes, and looked down at him. There was an awkward silence, and she snapped at the man, her husband, Harry assumed. The elderly man flinched in the same way that Harry did with lightning.

"Well?! Send him away, then!" She turned in dismissal, and Harry's heart dropped. The man seemed to take pity on him, because he pleaded with his wife.

"Let's let him stay the night. He's only a lost boy. What harm can he do?"

"What harm?!" She screeched, and this time both males flinched. "He can rob us blind, for one! Why do you insist on helping every dirty stray that comes knocking on our doorstep?!"

"Oh come now, Meredith. Just let him dry off, at least. The poor lad with die out there." Harry chose to remain silent, not wanting to flip the tables unnecessarily. He prayed that the old man would win this spat. Instead he focused on shivering and backing the man up as much as he could. Meredith hesitated, and after a few tense moments she nodded her head stiffly and walked further inside.

"He stays the night, then we give him to the authorities. They'll decide what to do from there." Harry was relieved, at least now he wouldn't have to try and walk all the way to a police station in the rain. He thanked the couple profusely, and let the woman lead him to a spare bedroom. "This is where you can sleep. Blankets," she threw some cotton fabric onto the bed, along with a stiff looking pillow, "you can figure out what to do for clothes, just ask before you take anything, hang up your wet clothes somewhere to dry. Tomorrow, Harold will take you to the constable, and don't expect a meal. You'll leave first thing, and I don't want to find one thing out of place." With that, she walked out the room, shutting the door behind her.

Harry turned his spring green eyes around the room. There really wasn't much, just a bed, and a chair in the corner. Harry's brow furrowed in concentration, trying to come up with an idea of what to cover himself with as he stripped himself of his soaked clothing. In the end, Harry made due with covering himself with the blankets, and hoping that he wouldn't toss and turn so much that he ended up embarrassing himself come morning.

As he lay in the stiff bed, he tried to figure out what had happened. He had been hiding from Dudley in a storage space at school. There was a lightning storm, and Dudley had opened the door, a bright flash of the electricity… then he was in the same storm, only in a city. Harry realized that it more than likely was in the middle of London, so the storm probably wasn't the same one. It must have been the same idea as when he suddenly found himself on the roof of the school. _I must really be scared of Dudley if I send myself all the way to bloody London just to get away from him._ Harry thought as his mind wandered to more insignificant paths.

Harry flinched at another flash, and started shaking in his bed. Now that he only had his thoughts to distract him, it was harder to stop fear from convulsing through him. He told himself that he needed sleep, if that was the only way to escape. As he closed his eyes against the white flashes, and pulled the pillow over the booming thunder, his last thought was that he could think about this tomorrow.

* * *

Harry woke to the door to his temporary room forcefully being opened, jolting him awake. He barely had enough time to make sure he was covered, and looked up to see a blurred Meredith standing over him. He reached down to the ground where he had put his glasses down for the night, and after putting them on, he saw her arms were crossed with a scowl on her face.

"Up. We're taking you to the constable." Harry pushed down the idea that the police equaled jail, instead of people helping him get back home. He nodded, and waited for the woman to leave the room so he could get dressed. He had to ask her politely to let him get dressed in privacy with a deep blush on his face, stating that he had no other clothes with him other than those that he came with. The woman became flushed, but said nothing as she stiffly walked back out and slammed the door shut. After a few seconds, he got up, wrapping the blanket around his small body for warmth, and walked to the chair in the corner. He had draped his wet clothes there, hoping they would dry over night. Feeling them, they were still damp, but not enough to make him sick when he went outside. He slipped them on and rushed to get to the door.

Harry saw Harold waiting by the door, looking at a pocket watch. The old man studied Harry as he came closer. Meredith was there, and she immediately started manhandling him roughly, checking his pockets and such, any place where a thief might hide his loot. Harry felt insulted, but didn't comment, telling himself that they were just being cautious, and had every right to be suspicious like a mantra. Harold winced every time his wife was especially cruel. After she was grudgingly satisfied, she huffed and hurried off farther into the house. After she was gone, Harold felt it safe to remark to the boy at what he had noticed.

"Now that I look at you, boy, you have… very odd clothes. Is that what they wear in the country nowadays?" Harry looked down at himself, and checked that what he was wearing was normal. They were. The boy then studied Harold, thinking, _I could say the same about you._

He was wearing another old fashioned outfit. It was a tweed suit, and he even had a tie. Again, Harry brushed the strange feeling growing in his chest away, telling himself that it was because the man had probably been born in the first five decades of the 1900's.

So instead of commenting, Harry shrugged with an apologetic smile, telling him that he didn't have any other clothes. Harold nodded absently, still studying Harry with a peculiar look on his face. "No matter, let's leave now," was all the old man said, as he opened the door and stepped outside, making room for Harry to leave as well. After closing the door and locking it, Harold started walking down the road, glancing back to make sure the boy was following him. Harry didn't lag behind, and kept his eyes on his guide.

Not many people were out, but Harry couldn't help but notice the strange clothing everyone wore. They were fashion straight out of the 30's, with the suits, the dresses, everything. The cars were from looked to be in the same period as well. He didn't have much time to gawk at everything, because Harold was quickly gaining speed, and the boy had to run to keep up. After he did so, Harry tuned everything out to focus on other matters.

The Dursleys were not someplace where Harry would willingly go to if he had a choice. But that was the problem, he didn't have a choice. There was no where he could go. He preferred being treated like a servant in a familiar place over being free and alone in an apparently uncaring world. Harold seemed nice enough, but he was obviously not the one who usually wore the pants in the marriage. Harry would just have to resign himself to going back to the Dursleys. He shivered at the thought of the consequences waiting for him at Number 4. They would not be happy, especially sense this whole fiasco was the result of him being a freak. They'd also probably be disappointed that he came back.

As Harry had been thinking, they had arrived at the station. Harold opened the door and ushered the young boy inside.

"Good morning, Charles," Harold greeted a man in a police uniform.

"Morning," the man looked down at Harry, then back at Harold. "Who's this?"

"Boy says he's lost. Came knocking at my door in the middle of the night asking for directions. He was soaked to the bone, so I offered him a night stay. But I can't very well take care of a child, and Meredith wants him out. So we figured we could leave him here, and you can help him find his way." After Harold explained, Charles looked down at Harry, frowning. It seemed that a lot of people were doing that at him lately.

"Did he steal anything?" The constable grunted out, still scrutinizing Harry.

"No, Meredith insisted on searching him at the door. Nothing was on him, not even a coin." Harry was relieved that Harold was vouching for him, maybe now he could get some help to the Dursleys. Inwardly, Harry blanched at the thought of actually wanting to go back to the Dursleys.

Charles hummed, and he nodded his head. He smiled as he spoke to Harry, suddenly seeming kind and gentle. Harry was surprised, and thought, _did I pass some sort of test? _

"All right then. You can leave him to me, Harold. I'll take care of him personally." The two men nodded to each other, and with one last glance to the seven year old, Harold left the station. The constable turned to him, still keeping the kind smile on his face. He then started a small interrogation when they where in an enclosed office, and Harry rushed to answer. "So, what is your name, boy?"

"Harry Potter, sir."

"Where do you live, Potter?"

"Number 4, Privet Drive, sir."

"Who do you live with?"

"My uncle and aunt, sir. Vernon and Petunia Dursley, and my cousin Dudley. It's… it's rather far away." Charles frowned at that, and he leveled a stern gaze at Harry.

"How far away?"

"The suburbs, actually." Harry glanced up sheepishly, expecting the man to be astonished that a seven year old boys could get lost at such a large scale. And as usual, even Harry himself didn't have an answer. But instead of surprise, there was only confusion. Yes, some bafflement was expected, but only with a mix of other emotions. Now Harry was bewildered as well.

"Excuse me, but… I don't understand what you're talking about." Harry's brow now furrowed, and he kept on thinking about how this man couldn't have even heard about the sort of in between stage of city and country.

"Huh? But, you know… the suburbs. A multitude of houses that look exactly alike, and a bunch of stuck up middle class live in them. They all have the same property more or less. Two story houses with lawns, and most of the time you can't tell your house from the next." Harry started to ramble on about the place he had been dumped, curse however thought it was a good idea, but suddenly, Harry really, really wanted to be back.

"What? Look, Mr. Potter, there is no such thing as a… suburb." Charles put his hands on Harry's shoulders, and gazed at the boy like the constable was beginning to think him crazy. Harry's eyes grew wide, and he raised his voice in panic. All the while, Charles tried to make him quiet lightly shaking him, trying to interrupt him.

"Have you not even heard of it? I live on Number 4, Privet Drive."

"Mr. Potter, I think it would be best if you-"

"My uncle is a company manager, he always calls me 'boy' or 'freak.' My aunt-"

"Boy, quiet down."

"-stays at home, and she's constantly snooping at the neighbors. My cousin's a-"

"Will you please listen-"

"-fat walrus that hasn't got a brain in his body, and likes to chase me around to beat me up."

"Quiet!"

"I hate all of them, but it's the only bloody place I have to go to, so I'd very much like it if you could help me get there instead of acting like I've imagined my entire life!" Finally, Harry felt tears sting his eyes, and he stopped talking. He put his head down, not wanting a stranger to see him cry. He was seven years old, for God's sake. Enough with the pity water works. Charles let out a relieved breath, and calmed down enough to force a soft tone.

"Finished, Mr. Potter? Yes? Good. Now why don't you sit down, and I'll go talk to some people. Can you read?" _Of course I can read. What, do you think there's still an uneducated mass?_ Harry desperately wanted to snap this out loud, but knew it was just to vent out his fright, so refrained.

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, still looking down.

"Good, er…" the constable looked around, and placed a newspaper in front of him. He looked proud of himself, and Harry didn't have the heart to point out that a seven year old could hardly understand a newspaper. "You can read today's. Don't worry, you'll be… home soon." He finished at he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

Harry turned to the paper, sighed through his nose, and noted that it was brand new, still in a bag to keep the rain off. The boy glanced at the date, and his eyes couldn't leave the page.

It was obviously fresh off the printer, or at least that new compared to what the date implied as to the paper's age. There was no way that a professional would mistake the date so drastically, and even if they did, it wouldn't make it through the person's coworkers.

But… this was impossible. This was straight out of a book.

_"Today's date: September 12th, 1933"  
_

_Not… bloody… possible…_

**AN: Okay, here's my plan. I'm not going to have a set date for updates, but instead I'm going to give myself a one week time limit. So, you should at least get a new chapter up by next Tuesday.  
Just to tell you, I have no way of knowing if England had suburbs in the 1930's. The story would have a hard time moving along if it turns out that they did. Sorry, I don't even know if my country had suburbs in the 30's. So, let's just imagine that they weren't even in existence at the time. Slight AU now in that aspect. And no, none of you have to correct me. If you do then it's just going to bother me forever, but I'm not going to end up doing much else about it. So please, don't bother.  
Wow, that was long for a side note. Either way, review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: To all my readers: It came to my attention a while ago that the documents I was posting did not have the correct spacing to make it easy to read. I was not aware of this, and I am deeply sorry for any trouble I may have caused. I am using a device that does not allow me to upload the document (the chapters) the way I usually do. I am still trying to figure out all the problems this causes and fix them accordingly. I will try and see what I can do about the two previous chapters, though I can not promise anything. But you can all thank reviewer anon for the lack of headaches now!**

Harry stood in front of the most dreary building he had ever come across. There were a small set of steps leading to the front door, but the lack of color reminded Harry of a book like Oliver Twist. He scooted closer to Constable Harold, who gently pushed the seven year old back.

"Well, Mr. Potter. Let's go in." The officer walked to the door, and pounded the knocker on the wood. After a few moments, the door opened to reveal a tall, incredibly thin woman.

She was wearing a grey wool dress that reached up her neck, making it look even longer than it probably actually was. Her hair was as thin as her body, brown, and brought up into a very tight bun. Her eyes were small, dark, and beady. They were squished into the the bridge of her nose, which was long and crooked. Her thin lips were pursed until it looked like they'd disappear.

All in all, she looked just as pleasant as the building Harry was being forced to step into. And probably would be forced to live in the future. The very near future, thanks to whatever Harry had that made him such a freak.

"Is this the boy?" Even her voice was unpleasant. Harry resisted the urge to flinch as he was reminded of his aunt when the high, breathy voice reached his ears. From years of practice of tiptoeing around to survive, Harry melted into his polite role. It wasn't that he was faking it. It really was in his nature to be polite. He just learned to put his natural manners to good use. It seemed to work on everyone but his family.

"Yes, Ma'am. The boy didn't have anything on him when he came to the station, so as you can see, it's just him." Harry took a step back from the door, trying once again in a vain attempt to stop this from happening.

"Sir, Miss… I'm sorry, but I think I can find my own way home then. Since it's a ways away-"

"Mr. Potter, we've been over this. We couldn't find anyone with the information you gave us, so you'll be staying here until we find your home. The station isn't equipped to take care of children for an extended amount of time. We'll keep going on your case, but for now, Mrs. Cole will take care of you." Constable Harold's tone was strained as he interrupted the boy, showing the growing frustration and uncaring attitude to Harry's "case."

Harry grew quiet and retook his steps backwards, moving forward into the house. Harry didn't want to stay in such a place, and found himself longing for Privet Drive. He felt like if he stayed there, he would change something, for better or for worse. The fact that the boy apparently had time traveled didn't allow for him to brush the feeling off. Harry had not told anyone immediately that he was from the future due to the initial shock, but had also decided that it was not wise to start raving like a lunatic. Instead he decided to try to live normally, at least until he either got sent back by a second fluke, or when he became old enough to send himself back. So he took to thinking of this as a vacation from the Dursleys.

The constable nodded, bowed his head to Mrs. Cole, and briskly walked back through the door. The man didn't look back once, and as the door shut with a click of finality, the small sound rang in Harry's head.

"Follow me," Mrs. Cole turned on her heel, expecting the new arrival to her orphanage to follow. She continued to talk while she walked, never stopping and never looking back to check on the boy. "You will be introduced to the other children during lunch, but for now you'll be showed to your room. You will share a space with one or two other boys. They're the same age as you, so there will be no problems, do you hear me? Meals are served at 7:00, 12:00, and 6:00. You will be in bed at 8:00, no exceptions, and will wake up at 6:00 every morning. We go to church every Sunday."

Harry vaguely wondered if this woman had been in the army with the way he was being drilled.

"Do you understand me, boy?" The shrill voice of Mrs. Cole interrupted Harry's musings, jerking him back to the real world.

"Yes, Ma'am. I understand." With the confirmation, the orphanage warden nodded and kept on walking.

"Follow me to your room." She stopped at a door, and called out to a girl who was in what was revealed to be a kitchen. "Martha, find Billy and Gabriel, tell them to come to their room." There was an ascent from inside the room, and the tall woman started up walking again.

She lead Harry down the hallway to a set of stairs, which lead to the second floor. They ascended the staircase, and continued on until they stopped at a door midway to a ladder leading to what Harry assumed was the attic.

"This will be your room. You'll share it with two other boys who are also seven, Billy and Gabriel. Here they are," the warden turned to where two boys were following them up the set of stairs.

The one on the left was about Harry's height, with mediocre brown eyes and light brown shaggy hair. But while Harry was gangly and thin, this boy had plenty of muscle. However, it didn't look like the boy had any meat to support that muscle. Like he never got quite enough food. But despite his build, his cow brown eyes showed high intellect and poise.

The boy on the right's health had the same problem, but his body was just right by society's standards. Not built like an ox similar to the boy next to him, and not like Harry, all skin a bones like a stick. He had dark blue eyes that hinted to boyish cruelty, marking him to Harry as someone who tended to bully others. He had dirty blond hair that was combed neatly to a sort of round point on top of his head.

"This is Gabriel," Mrs. Cole indicated the burly boy on the left, "and this is Billy. Gabriel, Billy, this is Harry Potter, the boy who will be sharing your room." The handsome boy on the right waved a little, and Harry tried for a sheepish smile. Gabriel nodded his head to the dark haired boy with glasses as the warden walked away, leaving the three children alone with each other.

"So… what's your story? I mean, no one comes this place unless something happened." Billy asked as he opened the door to the room, probably for lack of anything to say. Harry stuttered, not knowing how to answer that, as the burly boy slipped past into the room. Thankfully, Gabriel had a lot more tact than his roommate.

"You don't have to answer, Harry. Billy, remember when you first came here and you punched that kid for asking something similar? You're lucky Harry doesn't have your temper." The blue eyed boy looked surprised, but when comprehension set in, he slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning.

"Oh God, I'm an idiot. Hey, ya' ignore that, alright?" Gabriel put a hand on the apologetic blond's shoulder and his expression looked to be sorry too.

"He's a bloody moron, but means well, I swear. You really don't need to tell us your story until you're ready and want to."

"I-it's alright. I don't mind really, it's just I'm not so sure myself what happened." Billy looked like he was going to press, but Gabriel spoke before the blond could.

"Brilliant. Now come inside already. Let's get you set up." Gabriel looked at what Harry was carrying; nothing, and his mouth twitched a little. It wasn't in amusement, nor annoyance or disgust. It just… moved. He stepped aside, allowing Harry to walk inside. "Well, you should at least try the bed out. And don't worry, everyone here has a backstory. We're orphans after all, so you're not the only one." _There's someone else who's from the future? I don't think so,_ was Harry's silent reply.

The room was grey and white, making it look like it was stone. There were two beds pressed up against the opposite wall, a third one put opposite the door. The area around the bed to the right was neat and tidy, with a desk crammed between the third mattress, serving as a surface to pile old and tattered books. The bed itself was made nicely and with great precision. That was immediately labeled as Gabriel's space, while the third bare bed was obviously going to be Harry's. Billy's was, unsurprisingly, rather messy, an with a good deal less books. Posters lined the wall, depicting famous people and places. The blond's bed was neatly made as well, but not as perfectly as the brunet's.

"It doesn't seem the most welcoming of places, but it's not so horrible. We always get something to eat, clothes, all the necessities of human life. It's better than living on the streets, Harry. Believe me," Gabriel mumbled from his seat on his bed. "The adults here try, and that's what matters." Harry turned to the large boy, and decided right then and there that he liked the other child, and maybe even Billy.

"Thanks, Gabriel." The green eyed boy smiled, his eyes glowing with a dim, but warm light. The brunet gave a small smile of his own, but the hint of sadness in his eyes didn't disappear immediately.

"Call me Gabe, Harry."

* * *

After Harry had rested in the room, Gabe and Billy lead the dark haired boy down to a large room filled with long tables. There was a head table on one side where adults were handing out food. Harry was lead to stand in line, but his two companions grew stiff when they looked at the child in front of them.

"Hey… Billy? Let's… let's go to the end of the line…" Gabriel hesitantly started, but Billy looked like he was trying to gather up courage. Harry tried to study the boy in front of them, but all he could see was the back of his head.

The new boy had dark brown hair, almost making it black like Harry's. The hair must have naturally been wavy, was cut short in neat chops, making it appear straight. He was a little shorter than the messy haired seven year old, and from the way his muscles had tensed, it looked like he had heard Gabriel.

Finally, it looked like Billy had gathered his strength of will enough to say something. As the blond opened his mouth, Harry began to wonder why someone would be so afraid of just another human being. But his musings were interrupted when he heard that word. Harry didn't think he would ever have to hear the word 'freak' until he made it back to the Dursleys. It wasn't until he heard it again that he realized how much he didn't want to have to listen to the word again.

"Hey, freak! What are you doing? Don't you remember that Mrs. Cole took away your meal for tonight after that last stunt you pulled?!"

"Why are you calling him that?!"

"Billy… quiet!" Gabe tried to say as Harry burst out with his panicked question, but the brunet flinched, and actually gave a soft shriek when the boy in front of them turned around.

Now that Harry could see the boy's face, he realized that the other 'freak' was rather… well, Harry couldn't lie, the other boy was positively _beautiful_. Frightfully so, actually. That is to say that he could without a doubt have incredible looks when older. With dark almond shaped eyes that seemed almost black, and a soft, round face, he had the potential to look positively cherubic. That was just it, it was only potential. Any comforting, disarming qualities were made null with the blank and cold expression the face took on. But what made it frightening, was that the emotionless demeanor hid a ruthless and cruel malevolence. And when the boy opened his mouth, the honey sweet innocence of his voice made Harry cringe.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You can't possibly blame me for your rabbit dying. It was of natural causes. Even Mrs. Cole admitted that."

"It was perfectly healthy! You killed it, Tom! I know you did!" _Tom_ sighed, and turned back around.

"As for your question, Mrs. Cole did not revoke my meal for tonight. There is no reason to believe I had killed the animal. You are grieving over the loss of your pet, and trying to place the blame on someone else, because you can not admit to yourself that you led to it's demise. Billy, do us all a favor and stop beating yourself up over it. It's dead of poisoning from the meal you fed it." The line moved, and as Tom took a trudging step forward, his foot paused in the air when Billy tried to speak again.

"You're a freak, Tom Riddle! You can't be human, not with the things you do! And I know you did all those things. Everything horrible's centered around you, so it must be your fault! You're a freakish, inhuman monster! You-!"

"STOP IT!" Harry's scream echoed across the now silent lunchroom. Even the cold Tom turned back in surprise at his sudden outburst. The boy had his hands over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to calm himself down, a panic attack washing over him. He couldn't take it anymore, and when Billy whirled around to ask what the matter was, Harry grabbed the blond by the collar, continuing to yell. "What right to you have to call someone that?! No one's a freak! It… it… it shouldn't… shouldn't matter… what a person can do. So… so what if… if everything weird or bad is revolved around someone…? It doesn't mean… it doesn't make that person a freak, right? Right?" Harry, who had calmed down some, looked up into the blond's shocked face. "…Right…?"

His expression showed his distress clearly. The blond realized that maybe the shaggy haired boy had a little backstory with something much more traumatic than he had originally given him credit for. He looked at Tom, his eyes narrowed. The freak looked back with that cursed blank expression, not revealing a trickle of his thoughts. Billy looked back at the new orphan, nodded his head and grabbed his wrist.

"Right. Come on, Harry, Gabe. We'll get food later." He headed out the door to the hallway, Harry in tow and Gabriel following. The blond sent one last glare to the emotionless monster that killed his rabbit, which the freak returned thrice as strong. Billy suppressed a shiver of foreboding, and continued dragging the smaller boy behind him out into the backyard.

It was as dreary as the building that hid it from public view. Besides a small sand box, it was basically just a slightly browning grassy lawn without the abundance of decoration. The cloudy sky with dim twilight just added to the hopeless atmosphere. But the two boys paid it no heed, probably long used to the feel the place they called home gave off. Instead they focused on trying to comfort the newest addition to their 'family,' while at the same time attempting to explain the rules for survival of the orphanage. Billy and Gabriel had already silently agree that they would take the new arrival under their wing, and try to keep him out of trouble. Namely, keep Harry far away from Tom Riddle.

"Look Harry, uh… sorry if I made you remember something you didn't want to," the blond started, trying to find a balance to the situation.

"Yeah, but you really need to understand, Harry." Gabriel put a hand on the small boy's shoulder as he spoke up. "We're not blaming you for anything, and whatever it is that caused you to flip out, it's not like that. Tom… he really isn't normal. There's never any evidence, but everyone knows that he's the one that does them. It's not like your case, whatever it is."

"Take my rabbit that was mentioned back there for example," Billy added, putting himself back into the conversation. "I had done something you are never to do, Harry. I was being my idiotic self, and I tried to antagonize Tom, he insulted me, and I punched him. I'd managed to place the blame on him, but the next thing I know, my rabbit's dead and hanging above my head when I woke up. No 'natural causes' could tie a rope around it's victim head and around a beam. No human 7 year old as well."

"But… then… it can't be Tom's fault as well, right?" Harry decided to not voice his thoughts on how Billy shouldn't have tried to be mean to Tom in the first place.

"No, Harry. Trust me. I've seen the things he can do. Levitating things is one of them. Don't believe me? Ask anyone in this place. They have their own horror stories." Billy shook his head, and put a hand on Harry's other shoulder, shaking him a bit. "Swear to me that you'll stay out of Tom's way. He'll hurt you, and not feel a thing about it too."

Harry looked up into the worried expressions of his two new friends, and slowly nodded his head. All the while thinking about the times _he_ had lifted things without touching them. _There are others who can do these things…? And Tom is one of them?_

None of the boys in the middle of the yard noticed the shadow of a person listening in from the doorway.

_Who is this 'Harry?' He's strange, and way too kind hearted for his own good. No, maybe he's just as self serving as the rest of them. I need to figure out what his story is. _A vicious smirk stretched across Tom's face. _He needs to learn how this blasted place works, and I don't think Billy and Gabriel will be enough._

**AN: Dun dun dun~! Haha, Tommy's home~! Finally, right? And no, just because Harry thinks Tom's gorgeous, does not mean that he's immediately in love with him. I am not going to write that. No. Well, at least not that fast. It's a fact that Tom's extremely good looking, Harry was just pointing that out. But don't worry, my fellow TRHP fans, you will get what you came for. Eventually. I just will write it in gradually. At the very least, I'll attempt to do so. …Am I doing good so far, guys? Am I? Even if I'm not, I'll go back on this some day and make it better, I promise.**

**Also, a fun little tidbit: Billy was originally named John. But then I wrote about the rabbit, researched the name, and changed it to fit the story. Tom's not so stupid as to kill TWO rabbits! **

**I also want to apologize for the extremely late chapter. Tom is very hard to write with his many layers of insanity. And of course there's that little problem I set myself up for, whereas Tom is oddly young for this corner of the fanbase. Dang. I always set roadblocks for myself. Gotta work on that. Either way, the reason I'm so late was that I was trying my hardest to figure out how to make this chapter perfect. If any of you knew me personally, you'd know I'm a perfectionist with a slight case of OCD. And this chapter has a humongous importance for the mindset of the rest of the story. So it was important to get everything right. I hope you've enjoyed this latest edition, and I hope you can forgive it's lateness.**


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